Hanging Brain
by ktface3
Summary: “Our band is called ‘Hanging Brain’…” Creed smirked at the camera. “I got to pick the name because, well, I’m the best thing we have going for us.” Written in the style of the show, and rated T for no particular reason. Now complete!
1. The Magic

_Disclaimer: The Office and all its characters belong to NBC and Universal, not me. That's why I post stories here, where I am less likely to be sued._

_A/N: yay episode fics! This one is definitely shorter and definitely sillier than my last one. Lots of Jim/Dwight ridiculousness. This below is the cold open, which doesn't have anything to do with the actual episode; it's just another something silly I thought up. I'll have the next chapter up soon, but currently it is being beta'ed by my love, MrsBigTuna. I thought the cold open was safe to post though, and I wanted to get this story rolling before the NEW EPISODE NEXT THURSDAY!! Ahhhhh I can't wait!! Hehe. Enjoy!_

* * *

"Goood morning Viet-Paaam!" Michael shouted as he entered the office, making Pam look up form her desk, startled.

She sighed, "Good morning Michael…"

"Ho-ho! Someone's a little grumpy this morning… Looks like you could use—" He took out a magic wand from his coat pocket and tapped it against her desk, causing it to turn into a bouquet of flowers. "—Some fresh-picked daisies." He handed them to her and she smiled slightly at him.

"Visit the magic shop over the weekend?"

"You betcha!" he grinned. "Ohh look at you, you're gonna tear up from getting flowers…"

"No, I'm—"

Michael interrupted her, "Yes you are! Here, take my handkerchief." He carefully pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, leaning over her desk so as not to pull out the rest of the handkerchiefs attached to it. Pam gave an exasperated look to the camera and began to pull.

Michael backed away, "Oh! Look at that! If Jim ever dumps you you can use this to cry into—" By this point Michael had backed up all the way to his office, so he gave Jim a playful smack on the arm, "Or vice versa. It's okay for men to cry, Jim."

"Thanks Michael," Jim said, giving a look to the camera.

"And you know what? It is okay…" Michael reached behind Jim's ear and pulled out a plastic gold coin, "To take a gamble once in a while." He tossed the coin at Jim and then took a flourishing bow, "Thank you! Thank you everybody!! I'll be here all day." Realizing no one was applauding for him, he scowled at them and then went into his office and slammed the door.

* * *

_I'll have the first "real" chapter up in a couple days... and by a couple days, I mean hopefully tomorrow. Meanwhile, how was this for ya?_


	2. The Diagnosis

_A/N: so, when I said 'tomorrow', I actually meant like four hours after my last post, but are you complaining? This chapter starts in to the actual 'episode', and I'm not going to lie, I'm in love with it. It is my Italian food. I only hope you find it as humorous as I do. So go read, review, and enjoy!_

* * *

Jim entered the office with a plastic guitar and a large duffle bag slung around his back. He stuck the bag under his desk and played an imaginary riff on the guitar for Pam. the camera panned to her giggling, but she stopped abruptly as soon as Dwight came back to his desk with a mug of coffee in his hand.

"Hey Dwight…" Jim greeted him cautiously as he set the guitar under the desk with his bag.

Dwight glared at him, "You could never be a true rocker. That's why you have to settle for the videogame version." He added, "Why did you bring it to work anyway? It is not work-related."

"Yeah, but, we were thinking of practicing on our breaks, and after work…"

xxx

"Kevin, Creed, and myself have started a band on the game Rock Band," Jim told the camera. "I got it for my birthday and told Kevin about it, so he came over a few times and we got pretty good… Then one day Creed overheard us talking about it, so he asked to be in the band. We gave him an audition, and he was at the expert level on his very first try, so we had to sign him. And now, we're in a tournament, and the grand prize is a thousand dollars, so…" he smiled lopsidedly at the camera, "not bad."

xxx

"Rock Band is awesome," Kevin told the camera as enthusiastically as he could manage. "I love when they have the solo bars when you can just freestyle it—that's where I shine." He grinned idiotically into the camera.

xxx

"Our band is called 'Hanging Brain'…" Creed smirked at the camera. "I got to pick the name because, well, I'm the best thing we have going for us."

xxx

Pam spoke up from behind her desk, "Dwight, I think you're just jealous because you're not in a rock band."

Dwight scoffed, "Shows how much you know."

xxx

"Mose and I have a two-man band," Dwight told the camera proudly. "I play guitar and Mose plays washboard. He is a _wicked_ washboard player."

xxx

"We'll let you play, Dwight," Jim told him. "All you have to do is ask."

"I wouldn't give you the dignity of—" and then they all were interrupted by whines from inside Michael's office:

"Paaaamm… How do I access my Dunder Mifflin Infinity web requisitioning page again?"

Pam sighed and hung her head as she trudged in to Michael's office, the camera following her, "Michael, Ryan must've shown you this like a hundred times—what is on your face?" She stopped in her tracks and gaped at Michael, and when the camera panned over to him, they could see why. Just above Michael's lip was a red, swollen bulge that almost made his nose look normal.

He touched it self-consciously, "Has it gotten worse? Jan said it didn't look too bad this morning…" he then opened a drawer and got out a mirror to look at it. The camera zoomed in on him poking at it, "I could feel it there for like the past week, but man, it took off today!"

"Is it a zit…?" Pam inquired, not really wanting to know the answer.

"I dunno…" He poked it some more, "Get Dwight."

xxx

"Yat 'o you dink id iz?" Michael asked as Dwight yanked on his lip to examine it closer. He had surgical gloves on and had a metal nail file in his hands. The camera panned to Jim and Pam, looking on with a mix of curiosity and disgust, and then panned back to Dwight.

He let go of the lip and Michael put his hand to his face and rubbed the bulge tenderly with his fingers, wearing an expression like he did not enjoy being manhandled. After several moments of scratching his chin and getting looks from the other three in the room to give a diagnosis, Dwight finally said, "I think…"

"Yes?" Jim said impatiently.

"We should consult WebMD." Everyone groaned as Dwight knelt down and began to type on Michael's computer.

"Call us when you find something," Jim told them as he and Pam left Michael's office to get back to work.

Pam ducked her head back in for a second and added, "Keep the nail file."

The cameras panned back to Dwight, who was scanning the webpage, "You could have oral cancer… Do you chew a lot of tobacco?"

"No… but I did kiss Jan while she was still smoking—"

"Not good enough," Dwight clarified. "Do you have dentures?"

"What? No!"

"Just asking…" Dwight smirked at the camera and then turned his eyes to the computer monitor, "How about a change in taste? Difficulty swallowing…?"

"No…" Michael said hesitantly.

"Okay, and there's no sores or bumps on the inside of your mouth?"

Michael felt around the inside of his mouth with his tongue, "Mmmm… nope!"

Dwight nodded and stood up, looking at Michael like the answer was obvious, "Then I guess you have herpes—"

"Herpes!" Michael echoed, shocked.

Dwight sighed satisfyingly, "Yep. Well, my job is done. Call me if you need anything." He then strode out of the office, but the camera was still fixed on Michael, who wore a stunned expression.

xxx

Michael read from the computer screen, a mix of fear and anger on his face, "'Cold sores are caused by the herpes simplex virus, or HSV. There are two types of herpes simplex virus: HSV-1 and HSV-2. Both virus types can cause lip and mouth sores _and_ genital herpes. The herpes simplex virus usually enters the body through a break in the skin around or inside the mouth. It is usually spread when a person touches a cold sore or touches infected fluid, such as from sharing eating utensils or razors, kissing an infected person, or touching that person's saliva…'"

He looked up at the camera with a scowl, "How could I have gotten herpes? It means, I would've had to have come in contact with someone else who has herpes, and the only people I come into contact with on a regular basis are these people and Jan, and I _know_ Jan doesn't have herpes…" He paused to consider this and then restated, "I'm _pretty sure_ Jan doesn't have herpes…"

* * *

_Ooh, cliffhanger! Does Jan have herpes? Will Dwight bring Mose into the office and have him play the washboard? Will 'Hanging Brain' win the thousand-dollar prize money? For now you'll just have to live in suspense and review what's been posted. The next chapter will be up as soon as I feel a sufficient amount of time has passed or a sufficient amount of reviews have been made, so the choice is yours, my friends. Don't let me down._


	3. The Coup

_A/N: alright, so here's where we actually get to see some Rock Band action. Even though I couldn't fit this in, just assume that everyone can switch instruments pretty easily, except for Jim, who I don't really think could do vocals… Need I remind everyone of when he sang "Lovefool"? Yikes._

_Anyway, HUGE thanks to MrsBigTuna for the beta (hope you like my correction in this chapter), and also to my boyfriend, Mike, for checking over the story for Rock Band accuracy. Babe, your obsessiveness inspired this story, just so you know. Hehe. Enjoy!_

* * *

In the conference room, Jim, Creed, and Kevin were playing "Next To You," by The Police on Rock Band. The camera panned around to find Kevin on drums, Jim playing guitar, and Creed on vocals.

"So many times I used to give a sign; got this feeling, gonna lose my mind. When all it is is just a love affair, you took me over baby, take me there…"

Creed let out a "yaow!" to activate his starpower, and then the drums unexpectedly cut out.

"Damn!" Kevin yelled and banged on the drums with fury as Jim tilted his guitar to save him. The drums came back and Kevin resumed playing, "Thanks man."

"You know, you were in _two_ Police cover bands…" Jim pointed out as he concentrated on the notes on the screen.

Kevin tried his best to get the rhythm, "It's difficult trying to read the notes this way…"

"Apparently," Jim said under his breath. Pam passed by and stuck her head in the doorway to watch as they finished up the song. She applauded as the band congratulated each other on their score.

"We are going to kill at the tournament this weekend," Creed nodded confidently.

"You guys sound really good…" she offered, looking at the breakdown of the score on the TV.

Jim took off his guitar, "Wanna give it a try?" He handed the guitar to her, even though she looked apprehensive. "Come on, it's easy."

"She'll ruin our score, dude…" Kevin warned him.

"Then I'll just take us out of career mode…" Jim said as he hit some buttons on the guitar. "Okay, we're ready to go. What song do you wanna play?"

"Song?" The camera panned over to Andy, who had ducked in to the conference room and saw what was going on, "Oh man! Rock Band! I am all over that—" He yanked the microphone away from Creed and let out some high-pitched wails into it.

xxx

"Why _wouldn't_ I kick ass at Rock Band?" Andy asked the camera. "I go to karaoke bars every weekend to keep my voice in shape. And I mean _every_ weekend. I'm a regular. I even have a nickname too! At one bar, they call me 'The Baka', which I think is Japanese for, 'hunk who kicks karaoke's ass'." He then made a karate chop move to the camera and laughed, "Do I ever."

xxx

The camera panned around to everyone staring at him in embarrassment, and finally Kevin spoke up, "We're not playing a song yet. Plus, _our band_ needs to practice—"

"I agree," Creed said. "We won't be good enough for the tournament with all these amateurs" he motioned to Andy, "and groupies" he motioned to Pam, "getting in our way."

"Come on guys," Jim tried to reason with them. "It's just one song, and plus, it's _my_ console, so…"

"Let's do this!" Andy screamed into the microphone like he was Steven Tyler and then examined the song list. "Ooh! Mississippi Queen! Press green. Green, Pam!" He then hurriedly reached over and pressed the green button on the guitar and it took them to the difficulty level screen. They locked in their difficulty levels and started to play:

"Mississippi Queen, if you know what I mean, Mississippi Queen, she taught me everything. Way down around Vicksburg, around Louisiana way, lived a Cajun lady, we called her Mississippi Queen…" The camera panned around to Andy, having the time of his life, Pam, struggling on the guitar, and Kevin, who looked annoyed, but in deep concentration. The camera then panned to Dwight, sitting at his desk, a scowl on his face.

xxx

"Meredith…" Michael sighed, a wool scarf around his face, covering the bulge on his lip. The camera panned to Meredith, sitting in a chair on the other side of his desk and looking confused and afraid.

"Yeah?" she asked hesitantly.

"This might be awkward, but… do you remember when I look a sip out of your can of Pepsi a couple weeks ago?"

She stood, waving her hands, "It wasn't spiked! I swear! I'm trying to cut back!—"

"No, no, no," Michael brushed her off and she sat back down. "I mean, you didn't have anything like, a cold sore, on your lips that day…?"

"A cold sore? No, I've never had cold sores, Michael… Is that why you've got that scarf around you? You have a cold sore?"

"Just—shut it," he stammered. "You—you can go." Meredith shrugged and left Michael's office.

xxx

Michael sat at his desk, looking frustrated and sweaty from having a scarf around his face, "This is getting me nowhere. So far, I've interviewed Toby, who I thought would be my number one suspect, and Phyllis, who's always sharing drinks and silverware… Stanley, who just—laughed at me, and Meredith, who you saw… I even made a list, with Pam's help, of everything I could've come in contact with that would've given me herpes—" He held up a piece of paper with a list filling the entire page.

xxx

"Dwight says it's herpes—" Pam shuddered at the camera. "So, I helped Michael with a list of everything his mouth came in contact with over the past couple weeks… All I learned from that is that he touches a lot of things with his mouth that he has no business touching…"

xxx

Clips flashed one after another of Michael "pretending" to eat doorknobs, pens, his desk toys, and his employees' hair.

xxx

The focus returned to Pam as she stared off into space for a moment and then added, "And I thought seeing him naked was the worst…"

xxx

"Why don't you just call Jan and talk to her about it?" Jim suggested, his head resting in the palm of his hand as he sat with Michael in his office.

"Ugh, no. Do you know how awkward that conversation would be?"

"I have an inkling…" he answered rhetorically under his breath.

Michael furrowed his brows, "Jim, you are my number two guy, and I need you to come up with a solution to my herpes problem that I can actually use, okay?"

Jim snapped his fingers, "Okay. I got it." Michael leaned in. "First, go to the doctor, and get that thing checked out. Then, talk to Jan."

Michael squinted his eyes at him and then finally said, "Maybe I can pop it…"

Jim exhaled heavily and left Michael's office to go back into the conference room, but found the door closed and locked. He knocked on the door, "Hey, guys? Are we practicing? Or…"

He then stepped back as he saw the door being unlocked and opened. The camera zoomed in on Dwight, who had just stepped out of the conference room, his hair mussed and the Rock Band guitar slung around his shoulder. He glared at Jim, "Sorry buddy. You're out of the band."

"What!" Jim shouted, but Dwight had already closed and locked the door behind him. The camera moved to try and catch them practicing through the blinds, but it couldn't get a good angle, so it panned back to Jim, who banged his fist against the door in frustration. He then turned to the camera, a look in his eyes like he was plotting his revenge.

* * *

_I know, I know, another cliffhanger! I'm so unfair. Don't worry though, the next chapter is the climax (that's what she said), and so you'll find out soon what happens. In the meantime, please review this chapter, because reviews make me happy inside.  
_


	4. The Prank

_A/N: alright kids, this is basically the end. I want to finish this up before the new episode on Thursday (YAY!!) because all the spoilers point to Michael and Jan having some relationship troubles and (dare I say it) breaking up. Sob. I only have one more chapter after this one for ya, and it's the 'cold close', or resolution, or whatever you'd like to call it. But this chapter I will say is probably my favorite. You'll see why. Enjoy!_

* * *

The camera focused in on Pam, chewing a piece of gum and looking tired of it. It then panned to Jim, walking up to her desk and also chewing gum. He took the piece of gum out of his mouth with the wrapper and then stuck the gum into a hole of Dwight's recorder, which Pam was hiding behind her desk. She whispered, "Are you sure you're not taking this too far?"

"Pam, he kicked me out of _my own_ band, and is using _my_ instruments—"

"Controllers—"

"Still," Jim protested. "I've been thinking about this prank anyway for a while, and this just put me over the edge."

Pam took her piece of gum out of her mouth and stuck it in a hole of the recorder, "Okay, but just be glad that Dwight isn't allowed to have weapons hidden in his desk anymore."

"I _am_ very glad… Also, where do you weigh in on the Michael/herpes issue?"

"That thing is too big to be herpes…" she thought out loud. "I think it's a tumor or something—" The conference room door opened and Dwight walked out with his fist pumping in the air. He walked assertively over to reception and Pam quickly hid his recorder.

"Guess what, Jim?" he asked with an air of arrogance in his voice, "Me and _my_ band just beat all your high scores. And I made sure to save my character so they couldn't be erased."

xxx

"I call him, 'Johnny Schrute,'" Dwight nodded proudly to the camera, which then panned over to see an avatar on the screen that looked like a strange mix of Dwight and Johnny Ramone.

xxx

Jim gave him an angry stare, "Well, I can just reset the console, so…"

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes you are!"

"No, I'm really not—"

"Quiet, you!"

"Dwight, shouldn't you be selling paper?" Pam asked innocuously.

He glared at both of them, "I can sell paper any day, but how often do I have the chance to live out my rock star dreams?"

"My guess would be never…" Jim answered, and after a final fierce look at him, Dwight stomped off back to the conference room and slammed the door. Jim turned back to Pam and told her, "Give me a double this time." She handed him two sticks of gum, and he unwrapped them and stuck them in his mouth, chewing determinedly.

xxx

Michael rubbed his eyes and then looked up at the camera, "Okay, this is going to be the hardest thing I ever have to do…" He began to dial a number and then added with a sigh, "And that's what she said." He put the call on speaker and waited for someone to pick up on the other line.

"Michael?" Jan answered the call.

"Hey Jan…" Michael trailed off. "Jan-Jan, pajama man…"

She sighed, "I'm not a man, Michael. What do you need?"

"Well, you know how I've been complaining about that thing on my lip for like, the past week…?"

"Yes. It didn't look too bad this morning—"

"Well, it really got bad over the course of the day. So bad, that my workers can't concentrate, cause they're so worried about me…" a sly smile formed behind the scarf on Michael's face.

Jan sighed, "Alright, so what do you want me to do about it?"

"Well Jan, they think that… well, what they think is, that—" And then Michael heard shouts coming from outside of his office. "Oh God. Jan, let me call you back—"

"Michael—"

But Michael had already hung up and was out the door with the camera following him. They both then saw Dwight backing Jim up against his desk and grabbing his shirt, Dwight's recorder with gum stuck in it in his other hand. "I know you did this! I know you did, Jim! You will _not_ get away with this—"

"Alright, alright, just stop it, STOP IT!" Michael shouted and all the employees turned to him. "Dwight, what is going on?"

"Jim stuck gum in my recorder—"

"Oh, come on! Jim!"

Jim pointed accusingly at Dwight, "Well, he kicked me out of my own band—"

"Our band," Kevin added from the doorway of the conference room.

The camera panned to Michael, who was rubbing his temple, "Alright. Jim, Dwight, this is stupid. You two are acting like children. And this is a place of business, with people who have adult problems… like—" he pulled down his scarf, revealing a now throbbing bulge. "HERPES!" He let out a wail and shouted, "Ugh, I can't take it anymore! I'm going to pop it!"

He then ran off to the bathroom with Jim and Dwight at his heels protesting and Pam and the camera following behind them. They waited outside while the three men dashed into the bathroom, and they could hear shouts of a struggle from inside. Pam gave a concerned look to the camera and then she looked toward the bathroom, hearing the yelling stop. They then heard disgusted groans.

Jim came out of the bathroom, "Well, it was definitely a zit."

"What? He popped it?"

"Oh, did he ever," he put his arm around her and dragged her away from the scene, looking like he didn't want her to see anything.

The camera could hear Pam inquire, "Who gets zits at Michael's age?" as Michael came out of the bathroom with a mess of toilet paper covering his mouth. The cameras then panned to Dwight, who stuck his head out of the bathroom door.

"Michael, who's going to clean up the mirror?" he called to his boss. The camera panned over to Michael, who was pointing back to Dwight, and so the camera panned back to him. He didn't look happy, and there was a hint of fear in his eyes.

xxx

"Well, all's well that ends well," Michael told the camera. "I had a brief encounter with herpes, but now I am cured. You know, they say on WebMD that herpes is incurable. You have it for life…" He leaned back in his chair proudly, "Well, I would like them to take a look at the medical marvel that is Michael Scott." He grinned at the camera idiotically, and the camera zoomed in on his face, focusing in on the scarring, pus-leaking tissue above his lip.

* * *

_You'll find out what happens to Hanging Brain in the cold close, but did you like the resolution to Michael's herpes problem? How about thoughts on the chapter in general? Review and let me know!_


	5. The Game

_A/N: MBT, in all her infinite wisdom, informs me that this little ending piece is called the 'tag.' It's short and sweet and it ends the chapter on a funny note, or at least I think so. I hope you all liked this story, cause it was definitely fun to write it. Remember to read, review, and enjoy!_

_And on a side note, if you've noticed how I always put 'enjoy' at the end of my author's notes, there is a reason. To quote my own "Jim", who is just adorable for saying this (about email attachments, but it applies here too): "I always put 'enjoy' when I send attachments... It's like they are gifts and they will bring you happiness." Nicely put, honey, and for the rest of you, hope you're happy with the 'gift' of this story!_

* * *

Jim sat at his desk looking bored as Dwight came in to the office. He plopped down in his chair and Jim greeted him, "Morning, Dwight."

"Hey…" Dwight answered him.

"Able to get all the gum out of your recorder?"

"Most of it."

Jim nodded, "Good."

xxx

Jim sighed, "What ended up happening was, Dwight went out and bought another guitar controller, and so he became the bassist in our band. But when we got to the tournament, we got disqualified, because Creed couldn't produce a valid driver's license…"

xxx

A clip played of the band at the bar where the tournament was being held: the band members looked angrily at Creed while he was looking down at a registration paper and then up at a tournament staff member. He gave an apathetic shrug.

xxx

The cameras focused back on Jim, "At least Dwight and I came to a compromise though, and after that we actually had some fun." He smiled lopsidedly into the camera.

xxx

"Oh no," Dwight shook his head firmly. "There was no fun. It was a competition, and in competitions, even videogame ones, there is only hard work and ferocity." He paused and then scoffed, "Only Jim would think games are supposed to be _fun_."

* * *

_Thanks a ton to my chapter-by-chapter reviewers: Abyssion, hanakinstarbuck, hanamicha, and MrsBigTuna. Some of the reviews I received were extremely flattering, and I'm really glad you guys think so highly of my work!_

_Just an fyi, I'm going to hold off on writing something new until we get to see some of the new episodes. It sounds like things are really changing for some of the 'ships (particularly Michael and Jan), so I wanna see where the show is going before I embark on a new story. I imagine it won't be easy for me to stay away though, so keep on the lookout for something like a oneshot or updates on my 'Michael Scott: The Man, The Mind, The Enigma' story to tide me over within the next couple weeks._

_Until next time kids, "Peace and joy be with you, harmony and wisdom." And I hope you all are psyched for the new episode!!_


End file.
